Hawk's Prize Read Online Free PDF Page A

condition.”
    The big man’s light eyes locked with hers fiercely as he said, “I’m the
only
person responsible for me, and I can take care of myself.”
    Taken aback, Tricia managed, “Can you? Look at yourself. You can’t even stand up on your own!”
    “That’s what you think.”
    Heaving himself to his feet with a tremendous effort, the big man stood uncertainly, appearing even larger and more intimidating. Suddenly looking down at his short clothes with almost comical surprise, as if realizing for the first time that he was partially undressed, he demanded, “Where are my pants?”
    Tricia raised her chin. “They were stained with blood from your wound. I asked Polly to wash them.”
    “Get them back!” he ordered.
    “Why?” Uncertain what point there was in arguing with a fellow who wasn’t in full control of his senses, Tricia continued, “You didn’t seem so eager to leave when you got here.”
    His expression darkened. “Get . . . my . . . clothes!”
    “No.”
    Appearing to swell with anger, the big man took athreatening step toward her, only to grunt with pain as he leaned against the bed. At his side, she touched his forehead. He pushed her away, but not before she felt the unnatural heat under her palm.
    Regretting her annoyance, she said apologetically, “Listen to me, please. I don’t want to argue with you. Dr. Wesley said your wound had probably happened in the war. Since the war has been over for months, I can only assume that the infection has managed to get a secure hold. I don’t understand how you could have been released from an army hospital in your condition, but since you were—”
    “What do you know about army hospitals?” The big man’s eyes narrowed into deprecating slits. “A woman like you has probably never even seen one.”
    Tricia gasped.
A woman like you . . .
    Her angry protest died on her lips when he attempted another step, only to have his leg collapse underneath him. Falling, he struck his head on the dresser with a sharp crack.
    When he went suddenly still, Tricia crouched beside him. He was unconscious, and barely breathing.
    Suddenly panicked, Tricia ran into the hallway, calling, “Chantalle . . . someone . . . help! He’s dying!”
    Gunfire and cannon blasts erupted simultaneously, rending the brief, unnatural silence. The smell of gunpowder was heavy on the smoke-filled air as Drew looked at the writhing body of his friend. Corporal Paul Williams was only twenty years old. He would never see his twenty-first year.
    Drew was still staring down at Paul’s bloodied face when the young fellow took his last breath.
    Dead . . . gone . . . like all the rest. He supposed he should be used to it. She had left when things got tough . . . his mother, who had said she’d always take care of his two sisters, his brother, and him. Then his father and his brother had left, too.
    But it was he who had left his sisters. . . .
    Gunfire again! The Yankees were advancing.
    He grabbed his gun and fired. He kept firing . . . holding them off . . . allowing time for his fellow soldiers to get away.
    He waited until the last minute, then, still firing, stood up to make his escape. He gasped when a hot, searing pain struck his shoulder, sending him sprawling into the mud. He could feel the blood streaming from the wound as he dragged himself to his feet and continued on. He could barely walk, but the wound did not cause him as much pain as the thoughts pounding through his brain.
    His family was gone.
    He had watched his friends die.
    His leg throbbed ceaselessly, his head hurt badly, his mind was confused, but one thought remained clear.
    He had failed them.
    Tricia stared down at the big man thrashing on the bed as she waited for the doctor to return. She heard his mumbled torment as he relived moments of the heartbreaking war that had recently ended. Pain twisted tight inside her. She had seen men similarly hauntedbefore, but despite his seeming opposition to every word